


Halloween in Duckburg!

by Ninja_Librarian



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Donald is best dad, F/F, F/M, Getting Together, Happy Halloween Mud!, I also managed to squeeze one more ship in here..., M/M, Storkules' First Halloween!, There be some pining!, There is no such thing as a quiet normal day in Duckburg, minor canon typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 11:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21252383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninja_Librarian/pseuds/Ninja_Librarian
Summary: “Life is like a Haunted House, here in Duckburg! Ghosts, skeletons, zombies’ brains, it’s a good scare!”While the residents of McDuck Manor are abuzz with preparations for the Junior Woodchuck Halloween Bash, Donald soon finds himself somewhat reluctantly introducing the holiday to Storkules, who has never celebrated the holiday before. However, as the day progresses, Storkules learns a lot about Halloween… and Donald learns a lot more about Storkules and himself.One way or another, this is a Halloween to remember!





	Halloween in Duckburg!

From on top of his ladder, Donald finished adjusting one end of the “Happy Halloween” banner over the top the staircase in the manor’s foyer, glancing down at the kids preparing decorations, but particularly focused on Huey. Donald knew his eldest nephew had been stressing about this day for weeks, and he doubted the boy had slept at all last night.

“Okay, people!” Huey declared as he marched around the room, clipboard in hand. “We are at T-Minus eight hours until party time!”

“Which means we have plenty of time to put up all these decorations later,” Louie griped as he tried to disentangle himself from fake spider-webs.

“No, it means we are on crunch time to get everything perfect for tonight’s annual Junior Woodchuck Halloween Bash!” Huey said, putting his hands on his hips, glaring at his brother.

“Huey, sweetie, you’ve been planning this party for three months now,” Della said, placing a hand on her eldest son’s shoulder. “Of course it’s going to be perfect!”

“Three months is not enough,” Huey groaned, looking down at his clipboard. “I mean, I’ve had ideas for years but getting it all together and ready and everything…” He sighed. “This is my first time hosting a big Junior Woodchuck party, and the first time someone other than Tate has hosted the Halloween party and there’s so much pressure for the party to be as good as his...” His small shoulders slumped. “I just want everything to be perfect.”

Donald felt his heart squeeze as Della pulled Huey in for a hug. Still, he put on a smile as he climbed down from the ladder and told Huey, “That’s why you came to the right people for help!”

“Yeah, you made the right choice asking someone with shadow magic to set up for the spookiest day of the year,” Lena said, smirking slightly from where she lounged upside-down in an armchair, on her phone.

“It’d be nice if we had someone with shadow magic who would actually help instead of playing Sweets Smash on her phone,” Louie said bitterly before falling over, still wrapped up in the fake webs.

“Rich, coming from you, Lou,” Lena said, her smirk growing as she snapped her fingers and suddenly Louie was free from the spider webs, which were now hanging all around the room from where the walls met the ceiling.

Webby beamed. “Isn’t my GIRLFRIEND the best?”

“Yes, she is. And thank you for getting your daily declaration that Lena is your girlfriend out of your system before noon, Webby.” Violet said dryly from where she and Gosalyn were cutting out paper bats.

“We found those boxes with the ghost decorations!” Dewey declared as he and Penumbra entered the room, each carrying a box of decorations made out of cloth.

“Isn’t it kind of redundant to have ghost decorations when you have a real-life ghost in your house?” Gosalyn asked. “And, yes, I’m aware of the oxymoron.”

“Duckworth doesn’t mind. And he suggested it, since on tonight’s itinerary he’s going to be making an appearance in his demon mode,” Huey answered.

“See?” Donald told Huey. “You’ve got the best of the best helping you.” He leaned forward and whispered, “And you know Tate’s parties never had a real ghost. Or Mrs. B’s best Halloween food. Way better than anything Tate’s mom claimed to have made from scratch.”

Huey smiled. “Thanks, Uncle Donald.”

Donald gently pat Huey on the head and took one of the ghosts from Dewey’s box. “Now. Where do you want this, Huey?”

“Hmmm, let me check my diagram…” Huey said, flipping through some papers on his clipboard. “Aha! Okay, start over there in that corner!”

“On it,” Donald said. “Della, help me with the ladder?”

“You got it, bro,” Della said, running over to grab the ladder.

“What’s this?” Penumbra asked, looking at something with a mix of intrigue and disgust as she pulled another decoration out of the bottom of a box.

“It appears to be a puppet,” Violet said.

“Keen gear!” Gosalyn exclaimed, leaping to her feet as she ran over. “Looks like a witch!”

“Ugh, it’s creepy,” Louie said, shuddering. “Even for a Halloween decoration.”

“I think it’s cool,” Gosalyn argued, taking the witch puppet from Penumbra. It was an old marionette style puppet of a witch dressed in all black with a pointy hat riding a broomstick. “It’s just perfectly creepy!”

“It is cool,” Huey agreed. “It’s not a planned decoration, but… It’s cool. I’d like to add it somewhere… But I’ve got all the decorations accounted for in placement and spacing. I don’t know where to put it.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Lena said, righting herself and getting on her feet, her eyes gleaming. “Let’s have her fly.”

“You mean hang it up from the ceiling?” Webby asked. “Like we’re doing with the bats and ghosts?”

“No. Better.” Lena said. She waved her hand and the puppet left Gosalyn’s hand and started to fly in circles above them.

“Keen gear!” Gosalyn exclaimed again. “That’s wicked awesome, Lena!”

“Can you make it do that all night?” Dewey asked. “And be able to enjoy the party?”

“I think so,” Lena said. “Maybe? I don’t know if I have to concentrate.”

“Huey, how does this look?” Donald called from on top of the ladder.

“It’s perfect, Uncle Donald!” Huey responded, giving him a thumbs up.

Donald nodded, smiling at the quick turn-around in Huey’s mood. He playfully gave the ghost decoration a poke, chuckling as it swung at him. He was just about to get down off the ladder when…

“FEAR NOT, FRIEND DONALD, FOR I SHALL RESCUE YOU FROM THAT FEROICIOUS PHANTOM!”

Several things happened at one time.

Donald let out a yell as he was suddenly yanked from the ladder, Della letting out a yelp below him. There was quite a bit of yelling actually.

Donald found himself in a very tight, very muscular embrace that he couldn’t escape from.

The ghost decoration was grabbed in a large fist.

There was a ripping sound.

A voice with a thick Scottish brogue asked “What the blazes is—”

The ladder tipped over.

“OW!”

Donald felt himself falling, and he jolted as the thing that held him hit the ground first. Though unhurt, stars danced in his vision. And oddly enough, he found that he didn’t mind being wrapped up in the embrace. It didn’t feel like he was in danger. The opposite, really. Comfortable…

Still, Donald fought to sit up, grumbling and mumbling and…

“Storkules!” He exclaimed as he saw who had grabbed him, partially angry, partially surprised, partially resigned, and partially… Well, let’s say that explained a lot about why he felt comfortable. “Let me go, you big palooka!”

“I vanquished the foul specter!” Storkules declared, holding up the ghost decoration.

Donald groaned and smacked his forehead before looking around to survey the damage. All of the fake spider webs were down, the banner he had just hung was torn, the ladder had landed on some of the fake jack-o-lanterns and smashed them into pieces of plastic, and there was a very angry Scotsman standing at the top of the stairs, a hand over his eye.

“Uncle Scrooge, are you okay?” Della asked as she rushed up the stairs towards her uncle’s side.

“I always knew I’d get hit by a witch riding a broom,” Scrooge said through gritted teeth. “But I always thought Goldie would be the one riding it when it happened.”

“Sorry, Uncle Scrooge,” Lena said, picking up the witch puppet, which apparently was what assaulted Scrooge. “I lost control in the chaos.”

“Not your fault, Lena,” Scrooge told her, patting her on the head with his free hand. He groaned. “Curse me kilts, that hurt…”

“Come on, Uncle Scrooge, let me take you to the doctor,” Della said, leading Scrooge down the stairs. “Penny, can you go bring the car around?”

“Of course,” Penumbra said, dashing off through the front door.

“Oh no!” Huey groaned, looking around the room. “Oh no… Everything’s ruined!”

Donald finished extracting himself from Storkules’ grasp, rushing to Huey’s side. “It’s not ruined… We’ll fix it.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Huey, we still have time to make everything perfect,” Dewey insisted.

“How?” Huey asked dejectedly.

“I am befuddled,” Storkules declared, studying the ghost in his hand. “This specter appears to be made of fine cloth… Did I vanquish the spirit that possessed this cloth and attempted to attack Friend Donald?”

“No, because it’s not a real ghost,” Louie told him. “It’s a fake one.”

Storkules blinked. “Why would thou have a faux phantom in your presence, green miniature of Friend Donald?”

“Because it’s for Halloween!” Webby explained. “It’s just a decoration!”

Storkules stared at her for a moment. “Forgive me, Warrior Webbigail, but what is this Halloween of which you speak?”

“You don’t know what Halloween is?” Violet asked.

“No, Wise Violet. We have no such thing on Ithaquack.” Storkules answered.

“It’s ruined,” Huey declared, sitting on the steps with his head in his hands. “Halloween is ruined.”

Donald sighed and sat beside Huey. “It’s not ruined, Huey. We still have time to fix it, that’s why we started so early. I needed to pick up some of the pieces for the costumes and some candy for tonight anyway, and I’ll leave now and go pick up some new decorations. Okay?”

Huey lifted his head, his eyes a bit watery and forcing a smile as he nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Uncle Donald.”

Donald nodded and stood up.

Then he narrowed his eyes at Storkules.

Donald didn’t care how much he liked the god, he was angry, as Storkules was the ultimately the reason why both his nephew and his uncle were in distress and the room was a disaster. Unfortunately, Storkules was always immune to Donald’s anger and he just blinked.

“Friend Donald,” Storkules said. “Why did this ersatz apparition attempt to harm you in the name of this ‘Halloween’?”

“Storkules,” Donald said flatly. “You’re coming with me. I’ll explain on the way.”

Storkules brightened. “A quest?”

“Yes, yes, a quest,” Donald said with a sigh. “A Halloween Quest.”

“A Halloween Quest with my Best Friend, Donald Duck!” Storkules exclaimed. “Oh, glorious, glorious day! I shall prepare the chariot!”

“No need,” Donald said, fishing his car keys out of his pocket as he headed for the door. “We’re taking my car.”

“Even better!” Storkules declared as he followed Donald out of the mansion.

Donald had a feeling this would be a very long afternoon…

*****

Donald tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, trying to regain some of the previous cool he had had that morning. Before it got crushed by an immortal who never skipped arm day. Or leg day. Or ab day…

“What does our quest entail, Friend Donald?” Storkules asked from the passenger seat, his knees up to his chin as he tried to fit into the car. “What foul beasts need to be slayed? What lost treasures need to be recovered? What fair maidens need to be rescued?”

“No beasts, no treasures, no maidens,” Donald said firmly. “We’re starting with a trip to the craft store. Then the costume shop. And then the grocery store.”

“And this is all related to Halloween?”

“Yep.”

“I see.” Storkules said solemnly. He was quiet for a moment—but only for a moment—before he asked, “Friend Donald?”

Donald took a deep breath, counted to ten, then said, “Yes, Storkules?”

“What _is_ Halloween?”

Even though he was still annoyed, Donald couldn’t stop the smile that came to his face. “Halloween is one of the best days of the year. It’s a day to scare and be scared, but also to be someone other than yourself. Plus, free candy.”

Storkules frowned. “Why would one wish to be scared or scare someone else?”

“Because sometimes it’s fun to be scared,” Donald said. “Some people like to go to haunted houses with actors who do the scaring, others like to dress up as scary things, watch horror movies, putting up scary decorations…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Donald saw Storkules’ face as dots connected and he brightened. “One such as a pretend ghost made of cloth?”

“Exactly,” Donald said, pulling into a parking space. “But there’s other ways to celebrate.”

“Such as?” Storkules asked as they exited the car and headed towards the craft store.

“Well, some people don’t like to be scared, but they find other ways to get into the spirit,” Donald said, then laughed to himself about the pun he inadvertently used. He grabbed a shopping cart and led Storkules towards the aisles that still had Halloween merchandise, grateful they hadn’t been replaced by Christmas décor just yet. “Their costumes aren’t scary, and their decorations are more cute than scary.”

“Which do you prefer?” Storkules asked.

“I’d say… somewhere in the middle,” Donald said as he picked up some plastic Jack-o-Lanterns. “I like the scary stuff, but not as intensely as some other people. Like Della. We’re lucky she’s not in charge of decorating. Traumatizing stuff, let me tell you.”

“Friend Donald, have I discovered your favorite holiday? This Halloween?” Storkules asked as he picked up a plastic skull, that he quickly fumbled and put back when the eye sockets lit up green and a cackling sound came from within.

Donald chuckled at seeing Storkules warily eye the skull like it was going to jump at him. “It’s one of my favorites,” He said.

“Thus why you are so dedicated to ensuring that this party goes well?” Storkules asked as they moved down the aisle towards somewhat safer decorations.

Donald’s smile became sad as he put some packages of fake spider webs into the cart. “Well… Yes. But it’s also for Huey. I want this to go well for him.”

“Hubert is a fine organizer with a brilliant mind,” Storkules declared proudly. “Of course this party shall go off perfectly! Why, I am certain that this party will rival all of those of my father on Olympus! Perhaps next year we shall ask Hubert to plan a Halloween party for Ithaquack, the first of many!”

“We’ll see how this one goes first,” Donald said. “This is important for him.”

“Now that I have a better understanding of this Halloween, and how to celebrate it, I would dare say that Hubert is doing a fine job!” Storkules said. “So why are thou worried, Friend Donald?”

“I’m not worried,” Donald argued sharply as he impulsively added another plastic cauldron to the cart.

“As brave as you are, my dearest battle companion, I can tell exactly when something concerns you,” Storkules said, adding in a glow-in-the-dark skeleton that Donald pretended not to notice. “And that expression typically crosses your face when you are worried about your beloved nephews. Is this because of young Hubert’s state of distress from earlier?”

“It’s somewhat related,” Donald said, leading Storkules towards the check-out. “You know how he’s a Junior Woodchuck? With his book and everything?”

“Ah, yes, the order of the Junior Woodchuck, providing vital skills to young warriors in training.”

“They always have a few parties a year. And each member of the troop hosts one. And Huey… He loves Halloween. Ever since that first year, he’s wanted to host the Halloween party.” Donald said, resting his arms on the cart’s push bar as they got in line. “But he’s never been able to sign up for it for two reasons. The first is that Tate Woodlouse’s mother always snags the Halloween Bash at the beginning of the Woodchuck year. The second is my fault.”

Storkul es looked shocked. “Friend Donald, what warrior is this mother of Tate Woodlouse that she defeated you in mortal combat for the honor of the Halloween Bash?”

“There’s no mortal combat!” Donald exclaimed. “Not everything in the real world gets settled like it does on Ithaquack!”

“Then what did type of fierce competition have you consistently lost?”

Donald groaned and ran his hand over his face in an exasperated manner. “No competition. It’s my fault because we were all living in my houseboat at the time. Having a party there… it was never an option. I barely had enough to help Huey put together a potluck picnic every year for Earth Day, I’d never have been able to do anything like the Halloween or Christmas or end-of-school-year parties. And Huey knew it. He loves the Junior Woodchucks, but he always seemed to come home a bit sad after the parties, especially on Halloween. He never asked me if he could host one of the bigger parties, because he knew I’d have to say ‘no’. And that’s almost worse than having to actually say ‘no’, you know?”

Storkules was quiet, then he said, “Friend Donald, from what I have learned while living in Duckburg and seeking victory in my quest of adulting, I know that it is difficult. And even more so while raising three young heroes-in-the-making. You did as well as anyone could.”

Donald shook his head as they moved up the line. “Maybe. I don’t know. I always felt I could do better. Things are more stable now, though, thanks to Uncle Scrooge. I can say ‘yes’ more. I like being able to tell the boys ‘yes’. And I loved being able to tell Huey that the Halloween party was his to host this year. You should have seen how his face lit up…”

“Did his eyes glow green in a fashion not dissimilar to the one we abandoned earlier on our quest?” Storkules asked, looking horrified.

“Er, no,” Donald said as he unloaded the cart. “This was more… metaphorical. It just means he was very happy. And that made me very happy, knowing I had a part in making him so happy.”

Storkules breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at the decorations that were scanned by the bored-looking cashier wearing a witch’s hat and a nametag that read ‘ROXANNE’. “You are so selfless and noble, Friend Donald.”

“Nah,” Donald said as he swiped a credit card through the reader. “Not really. I just really love my kids.”

He turned to grab the bags as the receipt printed and he glanced at Storkules, who stared at him with what he clearly recognized as affection and… something he couldn’t quite place. Nevertheless, Storkules smiled at him, a much softer smile than Donald was used to seeing on his friend’s face.

“I believe that love makes you all the more selfless and noble,” Storkules said, grabbing one of the bags. He lifted it slightly and said, “Is this all one needs to celebrate Halloween? Has our quest reached an end so soon?”

“Oh, no, buddy, we haven’t even scratched the surface,” Donald said, grinning as they headed for the exit.

“Next stop, the costume shop.”

*****

“Our quest requires disguises?” Storkules asked as he looked around the costume shop in wonder.

“Halloween requires costumes,” Donald explained. “People dress up as one way to celebrate Halloween.”

“Why?” Storkules asked.

“Because it’s fun to pretend to be something you’re not, just for one day.” Donald said as they walked up and down the aisles, though Donald knew that his orders were waiting behind the counter. He was enjoying the wonder on Storkules’ face as he took in all of the many different costumes. “Ah, Storkules, you need a costume, don’t you? To wear to the party tonight.”

Storkules stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes somehow going even wider, his hand to his chest. “I am invited to Hubert’s Junior Woodchuck Halloween Bash?”

“Of course you are, you big palooka,” Donald told him, then immediately let out a squawk as Storkules grabbed him in a hug and spun him around.

“Glorious, glorious day!” Storkules proclaimed. “Not only have I learned of a new mortal annual tradition, but I have been invited to partake in the festivities by and alongside my best friend, Donald Duck!”

Storkules set Donald down and then rushed from one side of the aisle to the next, suddenly examining the costumes more critically, leaving a slightly dizzy Donald to teeter back and forth before landing on his tail feathers.

“Oh Friend Donald, whatever shall I wear as my first Halloween costume?” Storkules asked. “The options seem endless!”

“Well, there’s a couple types of costumes,” Donald said, standing up and dusting himself off. “There’s scary costumes—monsters and such—and then there’s the costumes where you dress up like people or fictional characters you admire. Then you could dress up like someone in a particular career, such as a doctor. Or wear historic clothing. Or dress like an animal. Or even dress up as a thing, like food. The options may seem endless, but if you can narrow it down, that’s helpful.”

“Then I shall be this!” Storkules declared, grabbing the first costume he could get his hands on.

Donald took a deep breath, reminded himself that the costume’s tag did not include the word ‘sexy’ anywhere in the description, and said, “Storkules, pal? Do you really want to be a taco for your first Halloween?”

“Hmm.” Storkules said, now looking at the costume closely and noticing that it was several sizes too small. “Perhaps not… What shall you be dressed as, Friend Donald?”

“I’m going as a vampire,” Donald said. “My cape and things are up at the front. Want to see it? I’ve got to pick up some of the pieces of the kids’ costumes, too. That might give you some ideas.”

Storkules nodded, returned the taco costume to the rack, and followed Donald to the front. He handed the cashier a ticket and she returned with a box.

Donald was reaching for the box when he heard the sound of glass breaking behind him along with screaming and the sound of fighting. He didn’t even turn, just sighed and called out, “Hello, Darkwing.”

“Hey, Donald!” Darkwing Duck grunted as he rolled around on the floor, wrestling a villain wearing a chef’s uniform. “Happy Halloween! Argh! Take that, Sous Chef!”

“Aren’t you the terror that flaps in the night?” Donald asked, now turning around, the only one in the vicinity of the fight—as most of the shop’s clients fled—to be completely undisturbed by the chaos. “Emphasis on _night_?”

“Don’t blame me, it’s Gizmoduck who’s falling down on the job! Suck gas, evildoer!” Darkwing yelled as he got a hand on his gas gun, spraying the supervillain in the face with what was most evidentially not the type of gas that Darkwing meant to use judging by the villain’s increased ire and Darkwing’s flat “Phooey…”

“Friend Donald,” Storkules said. “What category of costume does Friend Darkwing’s fall under?”

“A category that is just a combination of most of the other categories,” Donald explained.

“Ah,” Storkules nodded. He brightened and waved, “Greetings, Friend Launchpad!”

“Hiya, Storkules!” Launchpad called back as he carefully climbed in the broken shop window, even though the shop’s door was wide open. “Hi, Donald!”

“Launchpad, a little help here?” Darkwing yelled, as he was now being chased around the store by the irate villain wielding a metal spatula in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. Donald vaguely wondered if this guy was just a chef for Halloween or if he was a chef professionally.

“Oh, right, coming, DW!” Launchpad called. “Hey, Sous Chef! There’s someone, uh, putting pineapple on pizza across the street!”

“Friend Donald, should we assist our friends? As part of our quest?” Storkules asked as Donald grabbed the box and headed for the door.

“Nope, they’ve got it all under control,” Donald lied. “Come on, we’ve got to get a move on.” But then he froze. “Wait, we still need to get you a costume…”

“I pray that thee not fret about my Costume of Halloween,” Storkules said. “For I am still deliberating as to what to wear. And I do not believe the Costume Shop in its current state—” He paused as they winced at the sound of shelving units being knocked over. “—is conducive to that endeavor.”

“True,” Donald conceded. “We’ll come back later.”

“Farwell, Darkwing Duck! Farewell, Launchpad!” Storkules called out with a wave towards the general vicinity of the superhero and his partner.

“See you tonight!” Launchpad called back from some indiscernible corner of the store.

Donald sighed and hoped the trip to the grocery store would be a lot less eventful.

*****

Donald grumbled under his breath and pressed down on the horn.

Typical luck…

He made the mistake of going to the store closest to the manor, only to find Gizmoduck in the parking lot attempting to break up a fight between two halves of a horse. Or, more accurately, the two idiots who tried to wear a horse costume and apparently realized after they put on the hot, stinky costume that they hated each other’s guts.

Donald huffed and was about to lay on the horn again when Storkules stuck his arm out the window and called, “Greetings, Warrior Gizmoduck!”

“Oh, hey, Storkules!” Gizmoduck said over his shoulder. “Sorry, can’t talk right now!”

Donald hit his head on the steering wheel and grumbled some more, then yelled and jolted when the car bounced. He frowned and rolled down his window, sticking his head out and he yelled, “Hey, what’s the big idea?”

“Relax, D,” Gandra said from where she was perched on the hood of Donald’s car, a notebook in hand. “I’m just doing the same as you: waiting for the show to be over.”

“That’s not my point! Get off my hood!” Donald yelled at her.

“Don’t worry,” She said casually, not looking up from her calculations. “I won’t get burned from the heat of the engine underneath.” She stuck her leg out and gestured to her jeans. “These babies? I call ‘em my hot pants. Because they’re heat resistant up to ten-thousand degrees Fahrenheit. And because Fenton can’t pick his jaw up off the ground when I wear them. I designed the fabric myself! Pretty sweet, huh?”

“Gandra, get off my car!” Donald yelled.

“Nope,” Gandra said, going back to making her calculations.

“Grrr…” Donald growled, feeling his face go red with anger. Stupid superheroes…

“It is good to see that, unlike what Darkwing proclaimed, our friend Gizmoduck is upright and has not, in fact, fallen down while doing his duty!” Storkules said with a large smile.

That got Gizmoduck’s attention as he whipped his head to look over his shoulder even as he continued to physically restrain the horse head from the horse bottom.

“Darkwing said I did what?” He demanded irritably, apparently quickly—and correctly—deducing what Darkwing had actually said. “Well, you tell Darkwing—”

Donald interrupted by laying on the horn again and yelling out the window.

“DO.” HONK. “WE” HONK. “LOOK.” HONK. “LIKE.” HONK. “MESSENGER.” HONK. “PIGEONS.” HONK. “TO.” HONK. “YOU?” HOOOOONNNNNNNKKKKKKK.

“Gandra of Dee,” Storkules called over the noise. “Art thou and Fenton coming to Hubert’s Junior Woodchuck Halloween Bash tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Gandra called back. “Not to brag, but our costumes are the bomb. It’ll be hard competition to beat.”

“It’s a kids’ party, there is no competition,” Donald informed her sharply.

Gandra scoffed. “Lame.” She tilted her head as she watched Horse Head and Horse Butt get cuffed by police, officially relieving Gizmoduck from duty. She hopped off the hood of Donald’s car and waved, “Gotta roll. See you later.”

With that, she ran into the grocery store; Donald had a feeling that she would be followed inside a few minutes later by one Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera carrying an overly large, over-stuffed, impossibly heavy duffel bag.

Donald sighed but pulled into a parking space.

Three simple errands. He just needed to run three simple errands.

Well. That was life in Duckburg for you…

And it only got crazier on Halloween.

*****

“Kids!” Donald called as he opened the front door, allowing Storkules—whose arms were laden with large brown grocery bags full of candy that he was on strict orders to take directly to Mrs. Beakley—to get inside. “Come help unload the car!”

“Uncle Donald’s back!” Louie yelled. Donald stepped aside as this led to a small stampede as the kids raced to the car. He watched with a smile as the race turned into an epic, high-stakes rock-paper-scissors tournament to determine who got to carry in the prized box of costumes.

“Hey, Donnie, got everything we need?” Della asked as she came down the stairs, Penumbra behind her.

“Yep,” Donald said. “How’s Uncle Scrooge?”

“I’m right here, laddie, and I can speak for myself!” Scrooge declared as he stepped out onto the landing. He seemed very confident for a man who hadn’t been wearing an eye-patch the last time Donald had seen him. “A wee injury isn’t going to kill me. I’m Scrooge McDuck!”

Donald glanced at Della for a legitimate answer to his question.

“Doc said he will be fine, he just has to wear the eye-patch for a few weeks while his eye heals,” Della said with a wave of her hand. “Should be better well before Thanksgiving.”

“I’ve got the box! I am the rock-paper-scissors champion! I am the _Alpha Triplet_!” Dewey yelled as he ran inside, the box over his head.

“I’m still older and smarter than you, so, no, I’m the Alpha Triplet!” Huey argued.

“It’s cute that they both think that they’re the Alpha Triplet,” Louie said smugly.

“Can I open the box?” Dewey asked, bouncing on his toes.

“What’s all the excitement about this box?” Penumbra asked.

“It’s got our Halloween costumes in it!” Webby said excitedly.

“Go ahead, but you’re in charge of passing everything out—and to the right person,” Donald told Dewey.

“I can Dewey that!” Dewey said, shooting finger guns at Donald before opening the box. He pulled out some pieces of clothing and a hat, saying, “Huey, these look like yours!”

“Cool!” Huey said, accepting his costume pieces from Dewey.

“And… here’s Webby’s,” Dewey said.

Webby squealed and snatched up the costume pieces from Dewey, then throwing an arm around Huey’s shoulders. “I’m so excited to be your twin for the night, Huey!”

“Wha—Twin?” Scrooge asked, confused.

“Yeah, Webby, Lena and I are doing a group costume,” Huey explained. “Webby and I are going to be the twin main characters from the show, _Mass Springs_: Leo and Fable Oaks!”

“And I’m going as their cool older friend, Cindy, who runs the cash register for the souvenir shop at the twins’ uncle’s tourist trap, the Clandestine Cabin.” Lena said as she took her costume, which involved a lot of flannel.

“Oh yeah!” Dewey said, pulling out a jacket with glee. “This one’s mine!” To Scrooge, he said, “I’m going as Broy Tolton from _Junior High Musical_!”

“He’s going to sing, isn’t he?” Gosalyn asked in a not-quite-discreet whisper to Violet.

Violet smirked some and said, “Well, as the one going as an actuary for this evening’s events, I can tell you that my calculations say that there is a one-hundred percent chance of Dewey singing at some point tonight.”

“You’re going as an actuary? I thought you were joking about that,” Louie told her.

“Why would I joke about being an actuary?” Violet asked. “Is it not frightening to know your chances of survival at any given point in time for any situation?”

“So what are you going as, Gosalyn?” Della quickly asked before anyone thought too hard about Violet’s question—especially given the family’s favorite bonding activity.

“I’m going as Captain Wonder, the superhero!” Gosalyn exclaimed. “She can shoot laser beams from her hands and fly and is super-strong!”

“What are you going to be for Halloween, Uncle Scrooge?” Webby asked.

Scrooge chuckled and patted Webby on the head. “Oh, Webbigail, I’m far too old to be playing dress-up on Halloween. No, I just get enjoyment out of seeing you young folks having fun.”

“Uh, whose is this?” Dewey asked, holding up a crown.

“Mine,” Louie said, taking it from Dewey and plopping it on his head. “I’m going as Prince Napping Handsome.”

“Prince Napping Handsome? Never heard of him,” Lena said.

“Of course you haven’t,” Louie said, smirking slightly. “Prince Napping Handsome: Get some beauty sleep and wake up feeling like royalty. Trademark, Louie Duck.”

“Wait, how exactly are people going to know you’re this Prince Napping Handsome instead of just some regular prince?” Huey asked.

“It’ll be on the sign, duh,” Louie said.

“What sign?” Della asked.

Louie held up a finger then went to the couch. To everyone’s surprise, he pulled out a sign and an empty candy bowl. He laid down on the couch, closed his eyes, then pointed to the sign.

“‘Wake the Prince by filling bowl with candy’,” Dewey read. “Wow, you managed to find a lazy way to get already free candy on a day where you literally just have to say three words to get it.”

“Don’t be jelly that I thought of it first,” Louie said, eyes still closed.

“This holiday makes no sense,” Penumbra said flatly.

“Aw, just relax, Penny,” Della said, throwing her arm around Penumbra. “And let the magic of Halloween wash over you!”

“Or, more appropriately, the _spirit_ of Halloween.” Violet said.

“Yes!” Della exclaimed, then slapped her hand to her forehead. “I cannot _believe_ I missed that pun opportunity!”

“What exactly is the ‘spirit’ of Halloween?” Penumbra asked, arching an eyebrow.

“BOO!”

Several things happened at once.

Penumbra whipped out her laser gun and fired at the thing that dropped out of nowhere in front of her.

Storkules—the thing in question—realized his mistake too late and dropped to the floor.

Donald yelled and dove for the ground, taking Huey and Gosalyn with him.

There was the smell of singed fabric.

After several heart-pounding seconds, they all recovered enough to assess the situation and damage.

“Everyone alive?” Louie asked, rushing over, his eyes wide.

“It appears so,” Lena said as she lowered the shadow magic shield she had put up around herself, Webby, Violet and Dewey.

“My hat!” Scrooge exclaimed.

Sure enough, there was a burned hole in Scrooge’s trademark hat.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. McDuck,” Penumbra said, sounding ashamed.

Donald stomped over to Storkules, glaring at him with his hands on his hips and growling slightly.

Storkules looked up at him with big duckling eyes.

“Happy Halloween?” He offered sheepishly.

Donald closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then said, “Rules of Halloween Number Eighty-Seven: Never try to jump-scare someone with a gun.”

“Yes, that rule would have been good to have known five minutes prior…” Storkules said. “My apologies, Penumbra.”

“Apology accepted. However, next time, I won’t miss my target,” Penumbra warned cryptically.

They all made a note of that.

“At least this time the only casualty was Uncle Scrooge’s hat,” Della said. “And not, you know, a person.”

“Still, I apologize for the loss of the hat, Mr. McDuck,” Penumbra said.

“As do I,” Storkules added.

“As Della said, it was only a hat,” Scrooge said. “I can replace that. One of you lot, not so much.”

Just then, the clock in the corner chimed five o’clock. Huey gasped.

“The party starts in two hours and we’re not ready yet!” He exclaimed frantically.

“We’ll put up the new decorations Uncle Donald got right away!” Dewey said, moving on to unpacking the craft store bags.

“Lena, if you’ll do the spider webs again, I’ll get started on the banner,” Donald said.

“I’ll grab the ladder,” Della said, rushing off.

Now, Donald could admit that—unlike this morning—he was rushing slightly, and therefore not focusing entirely, which made him a bit careless. He had just finished hanging up the banner and—after getting confirmation from Dewey that it was straight—was descending the ladder.

Except, he was so distracted that he missed a step on the ladder as he descended.

He let out a yell as he fell.

He heard his name be called from four different voices, as well as a few gasps.

But he didn’t hit the ground. He didn’t even fall that far.

Donald blinked and looked up at Storkules from where he was being cradled in the deity’s large, strong arms.

Why, oh, why did it feel so comfortable to be in Storkules’ arms???

“Are you alright, Friend Donald?” Storkules asked, concerned.

Donald shook his head, belatedly realizing that he had been sitting in Storkules’ grasp without moving or speaking for too long. “I’m fine. Thanks for the catch, buddy.”

“It is as the young ones say, ‘No problemo’,” Storkules said, placing Donald on his feet, where he quickly got embraced by the triplets. Donald smiled and ruffled their hair.

“Hey, Uncle Donald? Rule of Halloween Number Eighty-Eight,” Huey said. “Scaring’s okay, just not when it’s mortal peril scaring, okay?”

Donald chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Now,” He clapped his hands. “What’s left?”

“I think we’ve got it all done,” Webby said, who was now checking Huey’s charts. “Everything looks great and we’re back on schedule. Now all that’s left is to get into our costumes and help Granny get all the food out here.”

“Alright, food!” Gosalyn said, rubbing her hands together, her eyes glinting. “I can’t wait, it all smells so good…”

Donald nodded then blanched as he turned to Storkules. “We never figured out your costume…”

To his surprise, Storkules beamed. “Fear not, Friend Donald. For I know exactly what I desire to wear as my first Halloween costume. However, it shall be a surprise and I shall only show you once the party has started.”

“Well… Okay then,” Donald said, somewhat apprehensive but mostly curious. “I’m sure it will be great.”

He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that Storkules’ smile grew larger.

*****

Donald looked around, smiling to himself. The party was just getting started and already it was a huge hit. The kids were all dancing and laughing and chasing each other and getting sugar high. The parents who came oohed and aahed over the decorations and Mrs. Beakley’s scrumptious cakes and other treats. And, to everyone’s surprise, there was quite a bit of candy in the bowl beside Louie the Prince Napping Handsome.

Donald may have smirked a bit when he saw that this fact was also noted by Tate Woodlouse’s mother, who looked annoyed as she looked around when she dropped her son off fifteen minutes before the party actually began then left in a huff.

“Huey out-did himself,” Launchpad said jovially as he started filling up a plate of food. Donald nodded, then did a double-take when he saw Launchpad and his costume.

It was kind of hard to ignore when your friend was covered from head to toe in blue paint, shirtless and… wearing fake dog ears?

“Uh, who are you supposed to be, Launchpad?” Donald asked, already regretting asking the question.

“I’m one of the toughest fiends Darkwing Duck ever had the pleasure of defeating! Repeatedly!” Launchpad said, grinning. “I am Liquidator!”

“Wait, so you’re dressing up as a _Darkwing Duck_ villain?” Donald said with surprise. “I would have thought you’d dress up as… you know, Darkwing Duck?”

“Wanted to try something different this time,” Launchpad explained. “Besides. Now that I’m fighting crime with the real Darkwing Duck, it’d look too obvious that we’re crime fighters if I dress up as Darkwing, right?”

“Uh, sure?” Donald lied. “So what is Drake dressed up as?”

“Here he comes now!” Launchpad said excitedly.

Donald blinked slowly and thought for sure that he was hallucinating.

For Drake Mallard was dressed as… a tree of some sort?

“Another _Darkwing Duck_ villain?” Donald asked weakly as Drake approached.

“Yep!” Drake said with a grin. “Bushroot, a botanist who—after a lab accident—turns into a half-duck, half-plant!”

“Turns out, when we were kids watching the show, we both shipped Bushroot and Liquidator together before we were old enough to realize what shipping is!” Launchpad explained as he wrapped an arm around Drake’s shoulders.

“That’s kind of cool,” Donald admitted. Weird, but cool.

He had to admit, it was a way better couples’ costume than what Della had talked Penumbra into, which was dressing as each other. Penumbra mostly looked grumpy about it, except when Della wasn’t looking at her. No surprises there…

The front doors of the manor burst open just then and there stood Gandra, dressed as a mad scientist, her arms in the air as she cackled, “It’s alive! It’s alive!”

With that, Fenton staggered in, his arms outstretched, dressed up as Frankenstein’s monster, bolts and fake scars and everything.

Or, more accurately, he was Deenstein’s monster.

“Fenton, Gandra, what intricate costumes!” Scrooge complimented as he appeared beside Donald.

“Thanks, Mr. McDuck,” Fenton said as he and Gandra came to a stop in front of the food table. “But, uh, I’m at a bit of a loss as to what you’re dressed up as.”

“I’m not dressed up as anything,” Scrooge said.

“Then why are you wearing a fez and an eyepatch?” Gandra asked.

“A series of unfortunate events,” Scrooge answered flatly, reaching up to adjust the red fez he wore. “Donald, isn’t Storkules coming?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen him yet,” Donald said, taking a drink of his punch.

That, of course, was when Storkules made his appearance at the top of the stairs.

Wearing a sailor suit, of all things.

One very similar to that Donald typically wore.

No, not very similar.

Exactly the same.

Storkules had dressed as Donald for Halloween.

Donald was so surprised, he spat out the punch he had been drinking…

Scrooge, whose jacket had taken the brunt of this, was not amused, giving Donald a death glare and a low growl.

Donald recovered enough to blush and say, “Heh. Sorry, Uncle Scrooge…”

“I’m going to change,” Scrooge said darkly as he stomped away.

“Uh, excuse me,” Donald said, walking away from the other adults to talk to Storkules. However, the kids beat him there first, putting him far enough away to listen in on the conversation without being noticed right away.

“Whoa, Storkules, great costume!” Dewey proclaimed as he ran up to the god.

“Thou knows whom my costume is meant to represent?” Storkules asked, looking pleased.

“Of course!” Huey said. “You’re Uncle Donald!”

“Interesting choice of a ‘scary costume’, Storkules” Louie commented from the nearby couch, one eye open.

“Aren’t you supposed to be napping, Prince Napping Handsome?” Huey asked, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Candy bowl is half-full,” Louie said, yawning and stretching. “Means that I’m half-awake. Need the bowl completely filled to break the curse.”

“Scary?” Storkules asked, surprised. “My costume is scary?”

“Yeah, since an angry Donald is a scary thing for a lot of people,” Webby added with a nod.

“But you’ve got to work on your angry face if you want it to be convincing.” Gosalyn informed him seriously.

“There is a point five percent chance of Storkules mastering an angry expression on command,” Violet said, tapping on her calculator.

To Donald’s surprise, Storkules smiled then laughed.

“No, no, my tiny hero friends. I have dressed up as my dear friend Donald because I admire him for his courage, his loyalty, his heart, and his handsomeness. He is the mightiest mortal upon the face of the Earth.”

Donald felt his entire body slacken, and a jolt going through his chest, his heart picking up pace.

He was touched by Storkules’ words, for his reasoning for dressing up as Donald.

But, more importantly, he realized something.

Something that he had been oblivious of for too long.

Storkules had a crush on him.

And Donald…

_Oh, I’m a big palooka,_ He thought with a gasp. _I have a crush on Storkules!!!_

Donald was still reeling from this insight when a new distraction for the kids arrived in the form of Uncle Scrooge, dressed in a suit instead of his trademark red jacket and grumbling about dry cleaners.

Huey gasped and exclaimed, “You did wear a costume, Uncle Scrooge! Or should I say, _Grunkle Dan_!”

Scrooge narrowed his eyes at Huey and said, “What did you just call me?”

“Grunkle Dan!” Webby exclaimed, bouncing on her toes. “From _Mass Springs_! Leo and Fable’s great-uncle who owns the Clandestine Cabin! He always wears a black suit, a red fez, and an eyepatch!”

“Sweet,” Lena said, grinning. “We’ve got another person to make this group costume even better!”

Scrooge still looked confused, but he sighed and smiled. “Oh, alright then…”

Meanwhile, Storkules slipped away and Donald followed him to the now-abandoned food table.

“So…” Donald said as he approached Storkules. “You admire my handsomeness, huh?”

Storkules turned to him and looked a bit confused. “You are surprised, my Donald?”

My Donald…

Not Friend Donald.

Or my dear Friend Donald.

My Donald.

His Donald.

“I guess your moving box labeled ‘Donald Fan Art’ should have given me a hint.” Donald admitted.

Storkules looked even more confused and surprised. “I thought all mortals admired your most attractive appearance.”

Donald felt his cheeks heat and he looked away as he said, “Heh. No. Not even close.”

“I have trouble believing that to be truth,” Storkules said.

“Well, it is the truth. But, uh,” Donald said, his cheeks even darker now and he lifted his gaze back towards Storkules. “For what it’s worth… I admire your handsomeness, too.”

Storkules’ eyes widened and his eyes shined brighter than any piece of gold in Scrooge’s Money Bin. “Truly?”

Donald nodded. “Truly.”

Storkules hesitated, then took a step towards Donald, one large step that closed the gap between them. Donald had to tilt his head back to look up at Storkules, and Storkules had to look down at Donald.

“Friend Donald…” Storkules murmured. “May I show you another way to admire you?”

If Donald’s cheeks were on fire before, they were hotter than any sun in that moment. “Uh, just keep it G-rate, this is a kids’ party and—”

Storkules didn’t let him finish his sentence, leaning down and pressing his beak to Donald’s in a kiss.

It was brief. It was chaste. It was sweet, and tender, and beautiful.

Donald smiled at Storkules and rose up on his toes, returning the kiss, this one much longer and much deeper than the first.

When they broke apart, they just stared at each other for a moment, cheeks flushed, breathing heavy, hearts pounding.

“Happy Halloween, my Donald,” Storkules said, cupping Donald’s cheek in the palm of his hand. “I have rather enjoyed my first, with you by my side.”

“Happy Halloween, my Storkules,” Donald said, smiling, placing his hand over top of Storkules’. “I do think this is my best one yet.”


End file.
